


Perfect

by jellyjog



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Consent, M/M, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Praise Kink, Sex Pollen, Spit As Lube, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 06:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19267861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyjog/pseuds/jellyjog
Summary: Enjoy this plotless dubcon porn that I wrote because I was having writer’s block with my ongoing story (If you’re reading The Trial, know I’m still writing, I’ve just written the next chapter like four times and keep changing my mind about it)There’s not even any setup here. Just porn. Sorry not sorry.Obi-Wan is implied underage in this but it isn’t explicitly stated. I was imagining him in the 16-18 ballpark. The dubcon is pretty dubcon-y, so tread carefully.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Again, dubcon and implied underage. Don’t like it? Don’t read.

     “You’re doing so well, Padawan.” Qui-Gon looked down at his student, shivering at the mewl his comment elicited. The boy had never held himself like this, at least not in the presence of his Master. Shaking, flushed, constantly shifting his position on the floor—the fact that he was not begging, either for privacy or for release, was a testament to his self control. For someone who had been so impulsive as a child he somehow now had discipline in spades, and Qui-Gon wondered when he had obtained it. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

 

        Qui-Gon knelt and placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. There was a muted gasp, and he almost growled at the way he could feel body heat through the meticulous three layers of cloth his Padawan wore. Even out of his mind on the ground, Obi-Wan’s tunics were more presentable than his own. Obi-Wan gazed up, irises swallowed by pupils.

 

        “Master.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes, sucking in a harsh breath. Qui-Gon shifted his hand to brush along the skin of his neck. It was hot. His Padawan had to be suffering under the thick fabric.

 

        “You’re burning up.” He moved his hands down to undo the sash. It was tied immaculately but came apart easily under his fingers, and he could feel grey eyes tracking his movements as he pushed the material away. Skin was red and warm against his touch all the way down the abdomen. He had hoped the fever would break on it’s own, but it was only growing higher. Worryingly so. “You’ve been overexposed, Padawan.” There was a whimper, and he could feel trembling. “This problem can no longer be ignored. You’ll fry yourself if you continue this way.” Another whimper.

 

        “I can’t—“ Obi-Wan cut himself off. He looked so fragile, so exposed with his tunic open and his lips parted.

 

        “You don’t have to,” Qui-Gon assured, moving his hands up to press the tunics off his shoulders. The body beneath him preened, back arching. It was enough to drag a gasp from his own lips. There was no denying that he wanted this—wanted Obi-Wan. He’d known it for far longer than was acceptable. “You have no idea what it’s doing to me, Padawan—seeing you like this.” He discarded the outer layers to the side and began working the undershirt upwards. Obi-Wan’s arms moved with the fabric, staying up until they were moved back down for him. A marionette of need.

 

        “You want—“ Obi-Wan choked on his own voice, breathing in against the fever and the touch. He was usually so reserved, but now his body was so responsive, visibly restricting his ability to speak.

 

        “I want you, Obi-Wan.”

 

        “But I’m, I,” he gasped, throwing his head back as hands brushed the waistband of his pants.

 

        “My Padawan?” Qui-Gon moved his thumbs beneath the band, playing against warm skin. Obi-Wan nodded desperately. “Too young?” More nodding. Qui-Gon maneuvered them so they were laying down. He could feel the desperate warmth beneath him.

 

        “Master.” He was practically crying now as Qui-Gon lifted his hips and pulled his pants down in stunted movements.

 

        “Such a good Padawan. Such a good student.”  He watched as Obi-Wan bared his neck in response, head pressed against the carpet. His Padawan braid drifted across the floor as his chin jutted upwards. “Those things don’t matter right now. Let me help you.”

 

        “I want, I—” Obi-Wan was panting now as his hand drifted up to touch at his Master’s clothing.

 

        “What do you want, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon was removing his own clothes now, prompted by his students wandering hand. His tunic opened and Obi-Wan shut his eyes.

 

        “I’d do anything you want. You know that.” His hand fell back to the floor as Qui-Gon moved his mouth forward to claim Obi-Wan’s, weight pressing down on the smaller form as it writhed beneath him. Desperately he reached down to free himself from his pants. There was no point in pretending they weren’t both desperately aroused, and he felt his Padawan practically scream into his mouth as their erections brushed together. So sensitive. So wanting. He could almost forget that the young man beneath him was drugged out of his mind.

 

        “Hush, imp.” Qui-Gon reached up to push back the sweat soaked hairs of his student’s ridiculous regulation haircut. He could feel shaking beneath him as he continued to thrust, slotted against him. “So composed, Obi-Wan. Let go for me.”

 

        “Master, please, it’s too much.” He threw himself back into the floor, back arching and legs spreading slightly. Force he was made for this. “Make it stop, please.” There was an edge to the words. A desperation he hadn’t shown in years. Qui-Gon brought a hand around their erections, causing a small cry. His other hand moved to brush along the cleft of Obi-Wan’s ass, brushing over his entrance. He pushed in slightly, just the tip of a finger. He didn’t actually have any lube but the body beneath him was unnaturally aroused, aching to let him in. The resistance was minimal.

 

        “Is this what you want, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon pushed his finger in further, pulling his own hips back and removing other contact as the boy neared his edge. There was a whimper. His mouth had fallen open. “You open for me so well. Force, I want you.”

 

        A shiver ran down the body beneath him and he removed his finger, bringing his hand to his mouth and wetting it before reaching down to push in with two. He moved them in and out, slowly. Taught muscles moved against him appealingly as Obi-Wan pushed back, and he looked up to see wide eyes looking back at him. Fingers scissored experimentally and Obi-Wan’s mouth opened wide, head tilting back as his eyes remained fixed on him. He moved forward, body swallowing the younger man’s as he took his mouth in his own. He plunged his tongue in, trying to urge a more enthusiastic response. Force, if only the boy would just let go. He pushed a third finger in and was rewarded with a gasp and a hand flying up to grasp at his hair.

 

        “Let go,” Qui-Gon growled, and he felt a groan slip into his mouth as he pushed his fingers in further. Hips began to rock against him and he encouraged it by moving his hand and his tongue more furtively. “Yes, just like that. Just like that, Obi-Wan.” Having his fingers inside wasn’t enough, not now that his Padawan was rocking against him so invitingly. He needed to be inside of him. Needed to push the boy over the edge. He didn’t have any lube though, and he wasn’t prepared enough. He pushed himself back, settling on his knees and spitting onto his hand, rubbing it over himself as he tried to make himself slick enough to justify what he wanted. He could see Obi-Wan pushing himself onto his elbows, mouth opened invitingly. He had a dazed look on his face as Qui-Gon moved himself forward, straddling his chest and gripping him by the hair to rub on his lips.

 

        “Just like that, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon pressed into his mouth, putting pressure on the back of his head to keep him from falling back off of his elbows. “Keep your tongue along the bottom. Force, you’re so warm.” He didn’t press back far, focusing instead on trying to get himself properly slick. He could see blue-grey eyes looking up at him, dilated to an impossible degree. The picture was so incredibly erotic that he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting in further, popping into his throat and moaning at the sight beneath him. His Padawan, helplessly aroused with his mouth opened wide around his cock. He gave a shallow thrust, feeling muscles tighten around him as he caused Obi-Wan to gag. Force. He pulled out, moving back as Obi-Wan began to cough. “So good. So good for your Master.” He settled between his legs, slipping two fingers back in briefly and scissoring. Obi-Wan seemed beyond words, eyes glazing over as he fell onto his back.

 

        He finally got the reaction he wanted. Legs wrapping around him and a high moan sounding out as he began to press himself into Obi-Wan. He watched in fascination as the young man put his arms to his sides, gripping hopelessly at the carpet. Sensing the urgency, Qui-Gone reached down to stroke his Padawan’s cock in time with his own thrusts, pulling an orgasm almost immediately. He had been on edge for so long, and his relief flooded through the room as his muscles clenched around Qui-Gon’s thrusts. Qui-Gon wasn’t so close.

 

        Powering through the orgasm, he pushed in harder, trying to bring himself to relief quickly and still savor the tight feeling of his Padawan beneath him at the same time. Hands moving to grip bruisingly at hips, he set a brutal pace. He could feel the skin beneath him cooling as Obi-Wan began to descend from his high, but he was still unbearably warm where he clenched around his length.

 

        And Obi-Wan was whining, overstimulated. Qui-Gon pushed harder. He didn’t want to cause discomfort, so he wouldn’t draw it out. He could tell the boy was starting to hurt, but he could feel his own climax beginning to crest and he pushed in fully, finishing inside of the limp body beneath him. There was cool sweat slicking the skin between them as he collapsed, still seated inside his Padawan. He breathed in deeply, fatigue settling in.

 

        “I think it’s passed, Master,” Obi-Wan whispered. His mouth moved along his jaw lightly as he spoke. “I tried to do what you said.” There was another shiver as the fever fled his body. The room suddenly began to feel cold without the insistent heat beneath him.

 

        “Oh, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon ran his hands along his Padawan’s sides, brushing along his braid. “You were perfect.”


End file.
